


Say the Word

by Leef



Series: Closer [1]
Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: 18 Year-Old Carl, Aged-Up Character(s), Anal, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs, M/M, Praise Kink, only slightly tho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-09
Updated: 2017-11-09
Packaged: 2019-01-31 06:31:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12676314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leef/pseuds/Leef
Summary: Just 4000 words of pure smut. Taking place after Carl relieves Negan of two of his men.





	Say the Word

**Author's Note:**

> I am so not sorry. I got a little carried away after hearing too much Nine Inch Nails songs. This idea somehow got stuck in my head and I had to write it. Hope you enjoy it. Don't look for any story because there is none. Just fucking.

„Just say the word and I will bring you back.“

Carl feels hands on him, a hard wall in his back. He stares into hazel eyes that don’t lie. He believes every word and yet he doesn’t say the word. He doesn’t say anything in fact. He just stares. And breathes, more uneven as soon as he feels rough hands on his bare skin – on his back, on his shoulder blades.

“What? You aren't mute all of a sudden, are you?” The man chuckles and starts to bite his soft skin on his neck, his ear. Carl trembles as he feels warm air puffed against his now wet skin. He shivers. Why doesn’t he say the word? He has no doubt the man would immediately stop, would taunt him, maybe, but he would stop. He believes him saying that as much as he believes that he wouldn’t kill him. There had been a certain kind of honesty in his voice when he said it. Though Carl doesn’t understand. Barely an hour ago he had gunned two of his men down. He hadn’t even been forced to say sorry yet.

Carl doesn’t say the word, doesn’t say anything, but he grabs the arms of the man, feels the hard biceps under the smooth but worn leather jacket. Their eyes are locked, and he feels those hands traveling down his back again, traveling to his front. It almost tickles as he feels those hands on his stomach. He can’t remember the last time anyone has touched his bare skin – apart from such parts like his hands, maybe a brush on his arm. But like this, no one had touched him, ever. There were times when he had wished someone would do it like this. He is an adult, he wants someone to be close like this, to touch him like this. Like a partner. But in a world like the one they are living in now, there are no potential partners for him and no time for that either. One time, Enid had kissed him, they had touched slightly but not really. Nothing like this. No hands on bare skin. He had hold her, she had hold him. But that had been it. They had never done it again, let alone done more.

Another chuckle.

“Well, look. At. This.” Carl focuses his eye on the man’s face again, not having noticed he had been looking at something behind him that wasn’t really there. “Could it be you don’t _want_ to say the word, kid?” A smirk brings Carl’s face to flush hot. Because he knows he’s right. He hates this man. He hates his guts, but his body refuses to act, refuses to say one simple word.

Carl feels those calloused hands resting just above his hips, feels the warm and heavy body pressing against him, pushing him against the wall.

“Now kid, I am not a rapist. Not the slightest, uh-uh. So, I damn well mean what I say. Say the word and I will fucking stop. But, to be frank, it ain’t look to me as you are goin’ to say it.” Another smirk and Carl has to break the stare. He is embarrassed because he knows the man is right. He won’t, and it drives him crazy to know this. He knows he should. He knows doing anything else is fucked up. But he won’t and that is what makes it even more fucked up. He tries to convince himself that it doesn’t matter.

“You at least tellin’ me how you like it?”

Carl feels something wet trailing the side of his neck, feels a sharp pain right after, which makes him flinch and inhale sharply. Then there’s a gentle suck at the exact same spot which makes him exhale, slowly, almost moaning. He immediately shuts his mouth, not wanting to give himself away by taking pleasure in this fucked up thing.

“So bittersweet it is? Well I am damned if I’m not real fucking good at that.”

Carl feels the hands on his hips move to his back, grabbing at his ass, lifting him up. He tightens his grip on the muscled arms instinctively, feeling his body being pressed against the other’s. He is being slammed against the wall again, feeling hot lips on his.

He doesn’t know why – only knows he shouldn’t – but the second those lips hit his, he opens his mouth, not for on second loosening his grip. He feels something hot sliding inside his mouth and it makes him groan against it. This is so different to the one time with Enid. Back then it had been tender, innocent, comforting. This here is raw, animalistic with their teeth clashing against one another, with their lips getting numb from the force.

There is a hand coming from his ass, traveling down his leg, tightening its grip on it. Carl doesn’t know why but he finally slings his legs around the waist of the man. It wouldn’t be necessary, being sandwiched between him and the wall, but it feels better this way. He trembles yet again as the other hand squeezes his ass.

“Well _this_ ” another squeeze for emphasis “is some damn nice ass,” he hears the man saying into the kiss which – to his disappointment – isn’t as wild anymore. Carl feels even more disappointed as those lips release his completely. He pants, trying to process what exactly is going on here, what they are doing, what _he_ isn’t doing. He should say it. Now, or there wouldn’t be a possibility he’d say it ever. But he doesn’t.

The man grins again. So wide he is showing his perfect teeth. “You are one damn adorable kid.” Carl wondered for a moment if the man knows his 18th birthday had been not long ago. Probably not. Still, compared to him he is a kid, isn’t he? Years doesn’t matter in this world anymore anyway, so he stops thinking about it - stops thinking about this man being at least his dad’s age, stops thinking about this man being the one who had killed two of his family - as he puts his hands on the man’s face. He could try to strangle him right now, could try to end it right now. The man doesn’t even flinch as his hands touch his face. Carl assumes he knows, as much as himself, that he wouldn’t do it. As much as he assumes Negan knows he wouldn’t make him stop. Because something dark, something hidden, wants this. And it wants it badly.

Carl pulls the man’s face closer again, drags him into another messy kiss, sharing hot breathes.

He feels hips rocking against him, feels something hard pressed against his body. Everything against him is hard – the wall, the muscled body, the lips, though this is different and the thought of what it is that is pressing against him makes him hot, makes him groan in anticipation. And guilt. He shouldn’t. He should say the word. Now.

But he doesn’t. Instead he wraps his arms around the neck of the man, feeling his stubble itching against his face. He closes his eyes again, concentrating on the taste on his tongue as a sharp pain jerks through him. And he tastes blood. As the man releases his lips yet again, he sees them coming off red. A lick across his bottom lip and the familiar taste confirms his suspicion.

“Last chance, kid.”

But he stays silent, standing his ground as those predatory eyes fixate him.

He feels the hard, supporting wall behind him disappear from his back, feels himself removed from it, feels the hand on his ass tighten again as he is moved to the bed and being thrown on it. He can’t believe how soft it is. It smells like fresh laundry but with a lingering smell of the man he is still tasting on his tongue under the taste of iron.

Their bodies aren’t touching anymore, there is nothing between his legs anymore to keep them spread but he doesn’t close them, just lays there, propped on his elbows, looking at the man still standing in front of the bed. His eyes are still full of amusement but there is something darker lingering under his smirk. He is like an animal, Carl catches himself thinking; an animal short before it takes down its prey. And in this moment, he doesn’t mind. He doesn’t care how fucked up this is. He refuses -this time consciously - to say the word. He doesn’t want to say it anymore and it scares him. It scares him more than it confuses him.

In one swift motion the man removes his jacket, then his shirt, throws both somewhere to the side, seemingly without caring about it with something more important in front of him. Carl’s eye moves from his face to his neck, his collar bone, his chest. He shouldn’t like this sight, should fear it, maybe; should hate it, probably. But none of the things he should feel are there. There is only a hot feeling spreading through his body. Longing? Craving to be touched like this again, like he’s the only thing worth touching in this moment. He never knew he could ache for a touch this much that he even makes a pathetic sound, which he stops himself from releasing as soon as it escapes him. Which – of course – is too late.

“So you aren’t mute after all.”

Carl anticipates the man coming down again and he is relieved when he finally does, the mattress slightly shifting under the added weight. He feels another kiss possessively pressed onto his lips, shoving his head into the sheets. He feels the man placing one arm next to his head, while the other wanders underneath his shirt. His body reacts on his own, tries to meet the touches, tries to get more of itself covered by the man. He catches himself cursing the fact that there isn’t more of the man to trail over his body, that there is not enough hands to cover everything at once.

Carl presses his legs against Negan’s hips, liking the man being between them more than he should. He likes everything more than he should – his weight, his smell, his sweaty skin against his now bare chest. They interrupt the kiss only long enough to drag his shirt above his head, carelessly letting it fall off the bed.

Carl’s pants feel far too tight, have been feeling like this for some time now, and the friction that every move inflicts starts driving him crazy – being too much and not enough at the same time. More and more needy sounds escape his mouth into their raw kisses, into the hot air between them, and he stops caring about it. He can’t deny that he wants this anymore – maybe couldn’t have from the start. It doesn’t make it less fucked up, and it certainly doesn’t make him feel less ashamed for it, but it helps pushing these thought away for the time being.

He has no idea how these things work, never actually had sex before, except for those times with his own hand. All he knows, he knows from magazines he had found somewhere, or from people talking about it. He isn’t stupid, he knows how these things are _supposed_ to work but he has no practice nevertheless. Those magazines had been only about men and women but he knows there are possibilities for two men, too. He just hasn’t done that with anyone and the thought of doing it with Negan makes him feel dizzy. It shouldn’t arouse him like this. He should do this with anyone but him, but he can’t stop himself from actually wanting it. Right here, right now, with this exact man.

Before he can really think about it, his own hands move south, desperately trying to unbuckle the man’s belt. His hands are shaky, and Carl wonders how he hasn’t noticed before. His failing attempt earns him another low chuckle as the man straightens up and opens Carl's belt, then his pants, just to strip him off them. His face feels hot with embarrassment, but his thoughts are dragged elsewhere as he hears another belt click. His gaze is on Negan once more and he watches as said man shoves his pants down.

Carl hasn’t seen many cocks before, but he suspects this is one slightly bigger than the average and also considerably bigger than his own.

“Like what you see?” He strokes his cock a few times and Carl can’t stop thinking he only does this for show. He swallows – hard - and feels his own cock throb in need. He manages a small nod, not knowing why of all the possible things to react to, he chooses this one. Does he like what he sees? Most likely he does. He shouldn’t, but he does.

“So, kid. We both know you aren’t exactly a kid anymore.” The man’s eyes roam his body, stopping between his slightly spread legs. “Ever sucked cock?”

Carl blushes, though he thinks it couldn’t be visible with his already flushed face. He shakes his head. Again, those magazines spring to his mind.

“Well, then it’s your fucking lucky day today. I will teach you all about it. Right fucking now.” The man sounds over-enthusiastic and Carl feels a shiver running down his spine at the melodic way the man spoke. His eyes travel back to his cock and he knows he should feel disgusted by the thought, but he isn’t. He will do this and he will do it good. And he is sure he will like it, probably even more then he already likes the thought.

“Get on your hands and knees.” The order sends another pleasant shiver down his spine and Carl starts to motion. He gets up on his knees just to get down in front of the man, who is kneeling on the bed, still stroking his length while watching him move. Carl has to put his head back to look up to the man. Negan grins down and the way he does that arouses Carl. He had known that Negan liked being in control, most likely got off of it. And now he also knows that he likes to be the one being controlled. He feels a hand putting his hair out of his face, tugging it almost tenderly behind his ear to uncover his socket. “That is some fucking sight, kid. You want to suck this cock?”

Carl doesn’t break their eye contact, only swallows, his mouth feels dry and watering at the same time. He wants to, but he can’t say it.

Another stroke along the cock close to his face. He can _smell_ Negan and it drives him crazy.

“I need you to work with me here. So, I ask it again, but I won’t ask a third time.” Carl feels the thump on his face tracing his jawline, pressing into it lightly. “You want to suck this cock?”

Carl swallows hard again and finally nods, slowly.

“Ah, I can’t hear you. I need to know you want this as much, y’know?” It’s not hard to see how much the man enjoys his dominant position.

“Yes,” he answers, still not breaking their look. He says it quietly, almost hushed. Which brings the man to lean down, close to his ear.

“You need to speak up, kid.” His voice is husky and Carl’s body tenses as he feels the hand grabbing at his hair, pulling his head back, straining his throat.

“Yes.” He is surprised by his own firm voice but feels the hand loosening the grip on his hair.

“Well fucking good to know. Now be a good kid and open your mouth wide. Try not to bite me and I will try not to choke you.”

Carl closes his eye. He has no idea why he does it, but it feels right. He opens his mouth and feels the mattress shift as the man moves closer. Carl feels the hand guiding him closer until something hot enters him. The taste of salt hits him as he opens even wider to take the thick length in. He gags on it and has to open his eye again, gripping the sheets under his hands tightly.

“Just like that,” he hears the man praising him, still burying himself in Carl’s mouth. “Fuuuuck.” The man sights, obviously pleased by this whole thing which makes Carl prouder than it should. He tries to get his gagging under control, tries to breathe through his nose – with limited success.

He peeks up to the closed eyes of the man until said man decides to lower his gaze to look at him again. He feels a hand stroking his face as a tear roles down his cheek due to the foreign body down his throat. “You have a damn nice mouth,” he states before pulling out of him only to bury himself inside him again. Carl feels the hands of the man steadying his head while he does so. For a second he panics as the thought of Negan choking him to death with his dick hits him. It would be easy, so easy. Carl doesn’t think he could bite him even if he would have wanted to. His jaw aches being forced open like this and closing it seems impossible. It scares him that this thought doesn’t let his arousal wear off, but instead makes it even worse.

Negan appears to notice his liking in this by the sounds Carl makes while he shoves his cock down, every time a bit father. “You are a sucker for this, right, kid?” Carl hears him letting out a laugh between soft groans. “Never thought you little badass would enjoy it _this much_.”

Neither did I, Carl thinks but pushes the thought away as soon as possible. He tries to concentrate on his gag reflex, to get rid of it more and more, to taste him, to rub his tongue against the hot, pulsating flesh in his mouth, to let his head getting directed. He can’t do much, just letting himself get face-fucked, but he doesn’t care. He enjoys being the reason for Negan making those sounds, to curse, to tell him how good he feels. He is almost sad as the, more and more ruthless, thrusts stop and as he feels the cock sliding out of his mouth. He tries to follow it, feeling like he isn’t finished with it yet. This earns himself a deep laugh and he looks up, drool on his chin. The man wipes it away with his hand and Carl feels just how much he needs those touches. He never has never known just how much he craved being manhandled like this.

“I appreciate your eagerness, but I want more than to fuck your throat raw.” Negan licks his lips. “And I am sure _you_ would enjoy something else, too. I’m a gentleman after all.” Carl doubts that but doesn’t say anything to it. No snarky comment. Does it frustrates Negan that he doesn’t bite back all the time?

“Now don’t get shy.” Carl feels a hand tangled in his hair again. What he doesn’t assume is the sudden jerk. He is forced back, getting up on his knees, tears stinging in his eye. “I love it when my little serial killer gets this look,” he hums and Carl instinctively grabs for his hands. “Nah-nah. That’s a no-no. You don’t want this, you say the word. You don’t say it, you fucking let me do what I do.” With this Carl lowers his hands again. He shouldn’t cooperate. He should tell him to stop. But he can’t. He wants to see what more there is, wants to feel Negan more. On him, above him, _inside_ him. His breath hitches at this thought and the man doesn’t fail to notice. He comes closer, so close Carl can feel his breath against his ear.

“What did just cross your mind, kid? Tell uncle Negan so he can be real damn nice to you. Not that you deserve it. On a side note: I’m still hella fuckin’ mad at you for killing my men.”

Why does this angry tone make Carl shiver, but not in a fearful way? The grip on his hair hardens and it does nothing else to him than getting even harder. He doesn’t look down, couldn’t do so, but he feels himself leaking. At least as much as he had when he had been roughly face-fucked.

“So? What crossed your mind, kid? Don’t disappoint, you’ve got such a sweet little voice. Whattaya want?”

Carl clears his throat, suddenly all dry. He can’t say this. He can’t. He hasn’t said anything to stop the man – that was one thing – but _telling_ him what to do was something different. It takes a threatening look from Negan to get him to open his mouth.

“You… inside me….” He only whispers this but the man doesn’t fail to hear it. He grins at him and Carl can’t stand his look. He is ashamed, he doesn’t know why he said it, but he did. And it is an awful feeling. His stomach turns. Then he feels himself getting pushed down on his back. He has to wiggle his legs away from under him since his knees were twisted by this motion.

“Does your daddy know about your fucking filthy thoughts? You better not tell him, or he will disinherit you, maybe even disown you.” Carl feels the man’s stubble against his neck again and he bites his lip, only to open the wound, to taste blood. “You see, I am a man of morals. I won’t tell him as long as you don’t.” Carl feels Negan’s hand sliding down his chest, feels his body between his legs, feels his hard cock against his tight, feels the hand brush his throbbing, his aching cock. “This can be our dirty little secret.” He moans loudly at the touch but doesn’t get more of it, feeling the hand retreat. He watches as Negan leans towards a nightstand to get a tiny bottle out. Carl can’t see what it is, but he sees that Negan’s fingers come out of it all slick. The man wastes no time to slide this hand back down, to bring it to Carl’s hole.

“You ever got fucked, kid?”

No answer. Carl is feeling hot and his breathing is all fucked. He hasn’t. But he had done it himself once. The memories make him shiver. It had been the most intense orgasm he ever had.

“Answer,” the man commands and Carl is forced to look him in the eyes. To Carl’s surprise he doesn’t look as angry as his voice sounds.

A slight shake of his head.

“Only… myself.”

“Look at you! Never thought you little serial killer are in this shit. But, hell, that makes it a damn lot easier!”

He stops circling his hole and pushes one finger inside Carl. He gasps and grabs Negan’s shoulders for support. This feels as foreign as the first time had felt when he had tried it.

Carl feels himself being stretched, being finger-fucked with practiced motions. He moans but tries so hard to keep quiet. He can’t comprehend how it can feel this good. He shouldn’t like it, he shouldn’t feel the pleasure racing through his body, shouldn’t feel the warmth growing in his belly. His first time with someone would always be with this man now. The man he hates. Or thought he hates. He is confused, he doesn’t know what he feels anymore apart from this incredible feeling of being filled.

There’s another finger shoved into him, working him open. He even feels the man giving his slick cock a few strokes, but never enough. It feels as if he knows exactly when it gets too much. Carl can only imagine him paying attention to every twitching muscle, in order to miss no sign of him getting close to the edge, preventing it every single time.

Carl feels himself being stretched more than he had ever done himself. It feels weird being so full, but it makes him cry out in pleasure every time Negan finds that sweet spot. He has his eye closed, most of the time, and every time he looks at the man, he sees how he’s all absorbed in watching his fingers slide in and out of him.

“More… please,” he literally pleads. He doesn’t recognize his own voice, he is sure the person he knew as himself would never say this. But maybe this person isn’t there anymore. Maybe, just maybe, this trip has changed him in some wicked way.

He only sees Negan smirk down at him, feels his weight shifting, feels the fingers being removed – which causes him to whimper. His body tries to follow the retreating fingers but without success. He feels a heavy hand on his hip, pressing him into the mattress, while the over hand guides the man’s cock to his entrance. Carl whimpers again as he feels the blunt head slide into him in a smooth motion. His fingers bury themselves into the man’s shoulder blades, urging him down to press their bodies together. He feels a groan against his skin, feels the body above him vibrate.

“Fuck, kid.”

Carl clings to the sweaty body of the man, incoherently saying words while he feels him press deeper into him, filling him, stretching him until it burns and hurts. Carl thinks he can’t take it anymore, breath coming in raspy drags, somehow trying to fill his lungs with oxygen again.

“You do good, kid. So. Fucking. Good.”

He digs his nails into the skin of the man, receiving a low growl in return. Carl’s mind is all dizzy, but he doesn’t fail to notice the man staying like this until he stops clawing to him like a hurt animal. To his surprise, he feels something touch his sweaty forehead, feels his hair being brushed to the side.

“You are fucking perfect,” the man whispers in adoration and Carl can’t stop staring in his eyes. They almost seem… tender. Full of compassion.

They start to rock against each other, moaning loudly into each other's mouths, lips already red and raw and bruised and with Carl’s blood staining them both. Carl feels the man thrusting into him, every thrust making him scream in pleasure. He feels his own pre-cum slick on his stomach and a bite into his shoulder gives him the rest, finally pushing him over the edge, cock barely touched. The pain mingles with the heat in his belly and he can’t control himself any longer, can’t restrain himself. He wonders how he made it this long anyway. He comes screaming, clinging to the man as if his life depends on it. He feels him thrust a few more times into him, feels himself twitching around him as he does, feels a hot fluid filling him. His eyes are wide open as he feels every motion inside him, imagining the man staining him from the inside.

Carl’s arms lower, losing all their strength once his orgasm washes over him, falling off of the man’s body. He sinks back into the damp sheets, his body still aching with lust and exhaustion. He believes he has no energy left to keep his eye open, nor to move a single finger. He feels Negan sliding out of him, feels something _dripping_ out of him.

He opens his eye when he feels the man’s body falling next to his. He looks at him for a moment, sees him panting, sweat glistering on his body and he can’t get over just how much he likes this sight. Carl puts all his strength together to cover his face with his arm.

Is he embarrassed? Probably. Is he angry at himself? Most certainly. Does he regret it? No.

And that’s what scares him.

“Kid, I really wanted to bring you back to your daddy, but I am not so sure anymore,” he hears Negan say with a chuckle.

He should have said the word when he still had the chance to.

**Author's Note:**

> Haha, hope you enjoyed it. I am still fairly new to this fandom/pairing but I am enjoying myself quite a lot! Hope you do, too. (:  
> Also if you find typos? Tell me! Something fucked up with my grammar? Also tell me! I need to learn, need to improve my English so drop me a comment with it. (Except for punctuation cause that sucks. No clue who invented those rules for it but whoever it was: fuck you, kind sir or madam!)
> 
> Oh, and feel free to drop me prompts. It be real nice.


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